Fractured Reality
by LaedieDuske
Summary: I had no intention of publishing this one, initially. It was intended as an unrelated Ren/Winchester one-off, nothing to do with the brief series I'm working on. Now...who knows? Updated 4-15-12
1. Chapter 1

**A/N This is a one-off with Ren, has nothing to do with the series I've been posting and I had no intention of writing it at all. It's an idea that got stuck in my head and wouldn't go away until I put it down and got it posted - I've found myself dreaming about it, even, which is what pushed me over the edge to actually just post it. It does not fall within the timeline of the brief span I plan on her traveling with them. **

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In the end, Sam and I flanked it and Dean killed it. Before we reached that point, though, it had killed several people. When we got there, it was in the process of killing one more.

A five year old girl.

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After the initial adrenaline-induced swearing and checking each other for injuries, we are all silent. Lost in our own thoughts. Drowning in guilt. Salt and burn the remains. Silent ride back to the motel. Quick shower, just long enough to scrape away the majority of the stench of blood.

The guys crash out, exhausted beyond all reasoning. I am so tired I have to remind myself to breathe, but sleep will not come.

Curled on my side, one hand on Dean's back. Grounding myself. A fragile tether keeping me from floating away into a vast ocean of self-loathing and grief.

I am supposed to be faster than these guys. I am supposed to be able to rely on faster reflexes, better senses. I have tried so hard to turn the curse of my birth into a positive somehow.

What has it done for me?

Exile from my people. Nearly put to death. Treading cautiously wherever we go so I don't attract attention. Attention that would put Sam and Dean in danger.

And now, I couldn't even save a five year old girl. So much for supernatural abilities.

Still I cannot sleep, but my thoughts are hazy. I am cold one minute and hot the next. I shift my eyes to look for an open window. Some explanation for the arctic chill I keep feeling. It is Fall and here in the Northern US the nights are bone-rattling cold.

My vision is blurry though and I can't see the edge of the bed, much less across the room to the windows.

I am not aware I am rubbing small designs into Dean's back. Not until he growls, "Ren, come on, knock it off. I'm trying to sleep here."

I can hear it in his voice. The accusation, the blame that just coasts the edges of his voice.

I am supposed to be stronger, faster, more agile, but I could not even save a child. I know it. He knows it. Sam does too and if he were awake he would probably be disgusted with me too.

I can't take it. I don't deserve the comfort of a warm bed. I can't stand the thought of endangering Sam and Dean any more than I already have. I have to get out of here before I get them killed too.

The accusation in Dean's voice combined with the thoughts of harm coming to either brother galvanizes my blood, launches me into action.

I roll towards the edge of the bed. I hear Dean speak, but cannot make out what he is saying. I feel him reach for me but easily dodge his hand.

I spare a bitter thought for how easy it was to dodge his grasp when I could not move fast enough when it really counted.

I see the girl's face in my mind again, hear her screams in my head. By the time I clear my vision, I am halfway across the parking lot of the motel. I don't remember walking out the door, hope I remembered to close it behind me.

I probably didn't, with my luck. Probably left it wide open for anything to get in and get the Winchesters.

Shit my feet are cold. Forgot my shoes. Something sharp in my left foot.

How did I get into the trees? Where am I going?

Oh right. The girl. Gotta save her. I forgot.

Except she died. Didn't she?

Maybe not. Maybe that was just a bad dream. Maybe I can still save her.

But then I see her face again. Hear the screams. The scent of blood clings to my nostrils. No. She is dead. And it is my fault.

But it's okay. I can hear something coming up behind me through the trees. I wasn't fast enough to save her, now I just need to not be fast enough to save myself. Whatever it is, I just need to be a step slower than it. Like I was with the girl. Yeah. I can do that.

I can feel it, right behind me, almost close enough to feel its breath. I don't know what it is, don't really care. The firm, painful grip on my shoulder spinning me around and then...

The world fades to black.

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He was awake, wasn't sure when or if he would be able to sleep again. He tried to relax, though, let his breathing smooth out until it was deep and even.

He can feel her hand on his back, absently tracing circles and sigils against his skin. He knows she is probably taking comfort in the small contact, but his natural defensiveness of his personal space kicks in.

He asks her to stop, voice coming out harsher than he intends, strained as it is with stress and exhaustion.

The instant she breaks contact he regrets it, realizes she wasn't the only one taking comfort in contact with a warm _living_ body. The devastation of losing an innocent life is not something that gets easier with time. Especially when it is a child.

He hears her cries in his head and his chest constricts painfully. He can feel the tears prickling his eyes.

But then Ren is rolling away, off the bed.

"Hey, you okay?" She doesn't answer, his skin prickles. Something isn't right. He reaches for her but she easily evades him, still not speaking.

He's off the bed right behind her, but she is already out the door. Closing it behind her. Walking out into the frigid night air in nothing more than shorts and a camisole.

"Shit, Sam! Something's wrong with Ren!" He scrambles into his jeans, throwing on boots but not bothering to tie them. He grabs his coat and darts out the door as the younger Hunter launches out of bed to follow suit.

She is across the lot at the tree-line when he reaches the front of the Impala.

He can see the distinct outline of her left foot on the asphalt starting just a few feet out from where he is standing.

It's blood.

He starts off at a run to close the distance, slows when he gets closer so he doesn't spook her.

He hears Sam not far behind him. He tries speaking to her, but there is no sign of recognition, no indication she hears him.

He takes in her body language - head bowed, shoulders slumped. She looks like she is walking in front of a firing squad.

He decides to risk it, he reaches out and grabs her shoulder. As he turns her, her eyes widen for a fraction of a moment and then roll back in her head. She drops as though someone has suddenly ripped all of her bones out of her body. Fear and adrenaline burst through him in an electric, tingling rush.

He manages to get an arm around her before she hits the ground, but just barely. He's lifting her then, feeling the heat radiating off her. She always runs hot, part of what she is, but this is different. Worse. More.

"She's feverish. Did it scratch her? Did you see?" Neither can remember seeing any wounds on her, momentarily holding onto the hope that this is illness and not toxins from the creature that should be a fading memory by now.

Sam runs ahead, thankful for something to do to help. He's only really dealt with Dean's fevers, and his father's once or twice when Dean was injured or sick himself and unable to help.

Sam is ready with cool, damp cloths by the time Dean returns with the still-limp form sweating and shivering in his arms. Every panted moan pulling at their already battered hearts.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: This story was supposed to go in an entirely different direction. After giving this little tidbit away to one of the lovely readers who likes Ren, I was asked _not_ to go in that direction. So after a _LOT_ of thought, I now have the entire story re-mapped and will get it up by chapters as soon as I get them down.  
**

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The brothers looked at one another over her shivering form on the bed. One of them was going to have to strip her down to check for a wound.

"Dean - "

"It's alright, I know what you're thinking. Just get going on how to help her." He was already moving to carefully check her over as he spoke, starting with the still-bleeding gash on her foot. He carefully pried it open to make sure nothing was lodged inside, flinching when she whimpered and twitched. He had seen her take far worse and keep going. _That's not a good sign._

Snagging the first-aid kit from where it sat near the wall, he quickly cleared the wound of dirt and debris. Dean knew her accelerated healing would take care of the rest, but he still felt compelled to tape a thick stack of gauze pads over it to absorb the blood that continued to ooze from the wound.

He was not sure why he felt the need to glance over at Sam, making sure he was turned away before exposing her for the wound check. Living in close quarters in cramped motel rooms did not leave much room for modesty. Whatever the reason, Sam apparently shared the impulse - he was seated at the small table with his laptop, his back to the bed.

As Dean started carefully shifting her thin clothing out of the way, he flashed back to the first time they had met, dressing and caring for the horrible wounds she had suffered. They had struggled with how to care for her as she lay fevered and delirious.

Like now.

He had thought they had learned so much about her in the time since then, but they were once again at a loss. She had said her kind were immune to most human illnesses and they had left it at that, content with the seemingly blanket statement. He fervently wished now that they had pursued the conversation. Most is not all - they needed to know what she _could_ fall victim to.

_Things I should have known yesterday for $1000 Alex,_ Dean thought, silently berating himself.

Sam could hear the quiet rustling of clothing and sheets from behind him. He could hear her occasional soft whimpers, could feel the tension radiating off of his brother. He went back over their notes for the hunt, but everything they had found had been based on the lamia's interactions with humans.

He was not really sure how the scenarios would change given that Ren was not entirely human.

Dean cursed softly, but with feeling. Sam resisted the urge to turn his head toward his brother's voice.

"Dean?"

"I found it Sam," his voice was tight, strained, "I am not even sure she would have noticed it when it happened. It's a shallow scratch on her ribs, it barely even broke the skin but I guess it was enough."

Dean looked more closely, realizing the red tinge was more than just trickled blood. "Sam?" His tone snapped Sam's head around to look at where he was crouched beside the bed to get a better look. "It looks...infected? Is that even possible?"

Sam frowned, puzzled, as he moved to get a look. "It shouldn't be, at least from what she's told us and what we found the last time..." he didn't finish the thought. Instead, he knelt next to Dean reaching out as he did to brush his long fingers over the angry looking scratch. She flinched and twitched away, but not before he felt the heat radiating from the wound site. She was feverish, but that spot felt even moreso.

"What the hell is going on Sam?"

Sam knew the anger in his brother's voice was not directed at him, was not even anger at all. Dean was worried. Sam stood, moving back to the laptop as he spoke, "I don't know, but we're going to find out. We'll fix this Dean."

Dean growled. Sam ignored it, focusing instead on the screen in front of him.

They would fix this. Somehow.

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Dean sat gently on the edge of the bed, deftly replacing the warmed cloths with ones dipped in the cool water he had just brought from the bathroom. He had taken his long sleeved shirt off to keep it dry, opting instead to dry his hands on his worn jeans. Under different circumstances, it would have been fine fodder for teasing. Sam looked up from the laptop on the table in front of him at his brother's low curse.

"The toxin," he swiveled to look at the younger Hunter, his green eyes wide with worry at the sudden thought. "Didn't we see somewhere, they use their poison to change women into lamia?"

"_Shit!_" Sam scrambled back through the pages of notes in front of him, skimming the page when he found it. "Yeah, here - the toxins contained in their secretions can be used to turn a female victim into lamia themselves, but it's thought that the woman has to have suffered the loss of a child," he recited from the page.

"It's _thought_? Isn't there something a bit more _concrete_ in all that shit in front of you?" Dean's voice started to rise and he nearly jumped off the bed when a small, warm hand landed on his bare forearm. He turned back, expecting to be met with sharp green eyes and a reprimand for snapping at his brother. He was disappointed to see her eyes were still closed, though her head had turned toward him and a frown creased her brow.

Looking at her hand on his arm, it occurred to him just how small she really was. Stripped of her bold personality, the ferocity of her nature, her 5'4" frame looked almost child-like. Or it would have, if it wasn't for the layer of hard-earned muscle. He filed that thought away under _things to never say out loud to Ren if I want to keep breathing_. Taking a deep breath he laid his hand over hers, speaking softly as he did, "Sorry Ren, everything's okay. Sam and I are fine. You just need some rest and you'll be okay, too."

He could hear the lie in his own words, but his voice seemed to soothe her distress. Her grip on his arm loosened. He moved his hand from hers, laying his big palm on her hot forehead until the tension eased from her face. He squeezed his eyes closed and took another deep breath before turning back to the chaos of the research zone.

Sam was looking through notes and _tickety-tap_ing on the laptop keyboard, intent on finding answers.

"Sam?" Dean kept his voice even and low, not wanting to upset the feverish shapeshifter again.

"I don't know. I just can't find enough information on it. For all I know it's never happened before, or maybe it has and wasn't documented, or who knows?" Frustration was clear in his voice, but he kept his eyes locked on the material in front of him. "She's a therianthrope - she said she's immune to most illnesses, but that doesn't necessarily rule out things like this. If it's something that only affects women who've lost a child..."

"We don't know whether she has or not. We don't really know a whole lot about her past at all." Up until that very moment, that thought had never really bothered either of them. After her painful exile from what had been her family, they had not wanted to drag up old memories. If she did not offer information, they did not ask unless they had to. Now, though, all Dean could think was they might never _get_ the chance to know more about her. With an angry shake of his head, he made a silent vow to kick that thought in the ass if it came around again.

"We can't exactly go back and ask them. I don't know if I would even risk finding another to ask even if we could, if word gets back to her clan that she's alive - " Dean left the thought hanging. They both knew what would happen, and it was not a thought either of them wanted to dwell on. "Maybe her natural immunities will be able to fight it off?"

"Either way, we can't really stay here now that the job is done."

"Sam, she's _sick_, we can't just pick up and go."

"I know, I don't like it either, but you know I'm right. She'll be in more danger if we stay than if we pack her into the car and go."

Dean sighed, defeated. Sam was right, of course, but he didn't like the idea of dragging her out in the state she was in. Not to mention the fact that they could not exactly keep digging for answers while on the road either. He really did not want to waste more time that they could be spending looking for answers, and he knew Sam didn't either, but at least one of them was thinking semi-clearly.

"Alright, so we head for the next state and then bunk down and keep working." Dean moved to start packing, but was brought up short by Sam's next words.

"I've got a better idea - I say we head for Bobby's, maybe he can help."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: **

"Bobby's?"

"Yeah, unless you've got a better idea?"

"No, but..." Dean hesitated.

"But what?" Sam had a feeling he knew what was coming.

"I just don't know if it's a good idea to drag Bobby into this, ya know? He knows about her, but what if we get there and another Hunter drops in? What if her clan or whatever are still looking for her? She is feverish and out of it, what if she wakes and sees Bobby as a threat? We've both seen what she can do to a man."

"Dean, any of those things can happen at any time when she is with us. Why would it be any different at Bobby's?"

"Because _we_ signed on for this Sam. She rides with us because we _chose_ that, knowing what she is, knowing what could happen. That was our choice."

"Okay...you said yourself he knows about her already, so we call him, explain the situation, and - "

"And what? Give him the chance to say no? Do you really think he would ever turn us away when we need help?"

"Well, no, but - "

"No, he wouldn't. So it's not like that would be a choice at all. And I guarantee you, if we could ask her, she would say the same thing. If something happened to any of us, you know she would never forgive herself."

_Just like you never would forgive yourself_ Sam thought, but wisely kept that to himself. "Look, Dean, she needs help. _We_ need help - she could _die_. We don't know how she will be affected by the poisons. How she _is_ being affected. Do you really want to let her die in some filthy motel room, or do you want to do the best we can do to save her?"

Dean felt like he had been punched in the stomach. He knew Sam was right, the question was rhetorical. The harsh phrasing intended to cut through Dean's protective stubbornness, but the words cut even deeper than that.

Without a word, he turned and started packing again. Sam watched him for a moment feeling guilty for hurting his brother. He knew he was right, though, and pulled his phone out to call the grizzled Hunter. He knew Dean would forgive him faster than he would forgive himself.

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Bobby, of course, told them to stop being idjits and get their asses to his house pronto. He wasn't sure how much lore he could dig up involving lamia and therianthropes, but he promised he would make that his priority. Telling Sam to drive careful and "get here in one piece" he hung up, leaving Sam shaking his head and smiling.

Together they got the Impala packed quickly. Back inside the room, Dean passed the keys over to his stunned brother, then carefully lifted Ren, blanket and all.

"Dean?"

"I've grabbed some cloths and a couple containers of water. I think one of us should sit in back and keep an eye on her temp in case it spikes."

Sam blinked and could not resist the mischievous impulse that nudged at him, "Are you sure you aren't just looking for an excuse to snuggle with her again?" he asked, trying to conceal a smirk.

His jab was, predictably, met with a glare that did not hold as much threat for bodily harm as he had expected. Filing that away for future examination, he turned to get the car started and warmed up.

Dean stood listening to the familiar growl of his Baby's engine and looking at the bundle cradled in his arms. Having seen her sharp claws and deadly teeth in action, it was difficult to see her so still. He thought back to when they first met, how badly hurt she had been. Laying with her, willing her to wake up after she nearly traded her life for his. Trying to stop the bleeding after the other therian' had attacked when Sam was missing.

And here they were again.

He was pretty tired of seeing her lying unconscious. He wondered if he could convince her to join a convent somewhere.

Somewhere safe.

The thought brought a smirk to his face and, giving the room a visual once-over, he headed for the car. They had a long ride ahead of them.

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Sam felt weird driving with Dean in the back seat. He was sure his brother felt just as out of place, but at least he had something to keep him occupied. Dean was only ever in the back when he was too badly injured to sit in the front, and though he knew Dean wasn't hurt it still made him uneasy.

Sam had not been with them for the 'shifter attack, he had been given the short version of events. Still, he could not help but think back, too, and he was pretty sure he could imagine how that went, knowing how Dean had taken care of her on the other occasions. How he was taking care of her now.

That was so Dean, though. It seemed as though he was always the one taking care of the victims while Sam hunted down hex bags, cursed coins or whatever else needed to be found. Despite his gruff, sarcastic exterior, Dean was one of the most compassionate people Sam had ever known. He regretted that it had taken him so long to realize it.

A few hours later Sam was still lost in thought. With the radio off, he could occasionally hear Dean speak in hushed tones to the restless woman in his lap, trying to soothe her. Suddenly Dean spoke up, telling Sam to pull over.

Heading immediately for the breakdown lane he asked, "Is she okay?"

"Turn off the engine."

Switching off the ignition he swiveled in the seat to see Dean had pulled Ren up so her head was resting on his shoulder. Her eyes were cracked open the tiniest bit, but it was obvious she was neither awake nor aware.

"Dean?"

He held up his hand, silencing Sam and spoke softly to Ren again. Sam's fingers twitched nervously as he waited for answers. Several minutes passed as she got increasingly agitated, then fell still again.

Dean looked up, his face a mix of sadness and anger. "I think she is dreaming about how she got kicked out of her pack."

"Clan."

"Whatever Sam. The point is, if what I'm guessing is right, there is a 'shifter out there who owes Ren not only her life, but the life of her child too."

"What? What are you talking about?"

"Get us back on the road, I will explain on the way. We have to get to Bobby's and try to figure out how to find this woman."

Sam got them headed in the right direction and tried to be patient while Dean settled her in again.

"It was sort of fragmented with the fever and all but some of the things she said...just made me think she was reliving memories rather than having a crazy fever dream."

"Like what?"

"I don't know, Sam," Dean snapped, frustrated, "like how if this woman and her kid got caught it would be the end of all of them. Or maybe that she got caught, but at least the other two got away."

"She said that?"

Dean sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. It wasn't his brother he was frustrated with, it was the situation and it was not fair to take it out on Sam. "No, not in those words. It's like parts of conversations, stray thoughts, I don't know how to explain it."

"So like talking in her sleep, except she's not really sleeping...you know what I mean. But why would she need to help someone escape the clan?"

"I dunno, maybe we can get the fever down enough to stop cooking her brain when we get there and ask her." Dean's tone was still brusque, exhaustion and worry getting the best of him.

"Why don't you try to get some sleep Dean? You'll be right there with her, if something happens or she needs you, you'll know it." He looked in the rearview mirror and saw the familiar stubborn set of his brother's jaw. "Look, one of us needs to sleep so we don't both fall over as soon as we get there. We need to hit the ground running on this."

"Are you tired? I don't want you falling asleep and wrecking my car."

Sam smiled and shook his head, seeing through the words to the real meaning hidden there. "No, I'm fine. Don't worry, I'll take good care of your car, make sure she doesn't get jealous while you cuddle in the back seat. OW!" Sharp pain in his right ear where Dean had just flicked him startled him and he swerved before regaining control of the wheel. He could not help the harsh bark of laughter as Dean shushed him from the back.

"Alright, alright, just get some sleep will ya?"

The only response was a snort, then the sound of the other Hunter trying to fit his tall frame onto the too-short seat, curled around the woman they were racing to save.

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**A/N: This chapter doesn't feel quite right to me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on why so I don't really know how to fix it. :-/**


	4. Chapter 4

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**Chapter 4:**

**Warning: Swearing - do I even still have to include that by now? Not sure how many are even still reading the Ren stories, but I know there are at least a couple out there. Thanks for sticking with me.  
**

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It seemed like every time Sam would use the mirror to check on them, Dean was still awake. Even when his eyes were closed, his face never slipped into the relaxation of sleep. Sam had been hoping his brother would manage to rest some, but apparently the Winchester stubborn streak was out in full force. He sighed softly, hoping they could figure this out quickly for everyone's sake. He wondered if there were a trick anywhere in his arsenal that he could use to get the obstinate Hunter to at least doze, but he decided he should probably save the big guns for when he really needed them.

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Dean heard a low voice coming from the front seat. He had noticed Sam had left the radio off, he was sure it was so his worried brother could keep an eye on them. His curiosity piqued, he tried to sit up without jostling Ren or dumping himself onto the floorboards. He was only marginally successful.

As he was trying to stretch out some of the kinks in his aching body and get her settled back in, he tossed a glance at the front seat to see Sam's phone pressed to his ear. He was talking softly to someone on the other end. Irritation needled at Dean. There was no way in hell they could take on a job right then.

"Sam?" He spoke quietly, not wanting to startle the woman in his lap, but his annoyance still bled through in his tone. Ren whimpered and a frown creased her brow as she shifted in his lap. Without thinking, he dropped a hand to her forehead, his thumb gently rubbing between her eyebrows, smoothing out the frown line as she relaxed under his touch.

By then Sam had hung up, "That was Bobby - "

"What's going on? Are we still going to his place?"

"Slow down, don't panic. Yes we are still going, we're almost there. I just called to tell him we're about an hour out so he has time to get ready if he needs to."

"What do you think he needs to do, Sam? Put on a prom gown and curl his hair for us?"

Sam took a deep breath and counted to ten. "Dean, I know you're worried, but you've got to get a grip on your emotions."

"Don't _tell_ me what I need to do Sam. I'm _fine_, _I'm_ not the one who's been poisoned and burning up with fever." Ren whimpered again and started to fidget.

Sam gritted his teeth, counting again, struggling against his own irritation. "Dean. She's an _empath_. A _delirious_ empath who probably has no defenses against what _we_ are feeling right now. Who knows what _our_ emotions are doing to _her_ fever dreams." He glanced at the mirror in time to see the stricken look on Dean's face and immediately felt guilty.

It was clear that thought had not occurred to Dean. Sam was intrigued by his brother's enigmatic situational processing. In a confusing twist, Dean accepted that their traveling companion could, almost at will, take the form of various animals. However, the fact that she was also an empath was apparently too much to swallow. Or remember. Sam wondered if it had something to do with the fact that his brother felt everything so acutely and denied it so vehemently.

He wondered, not for the first time, if maybe Dean had his own empathic streak, given how he always seemed to be so in tune with the people they were trying to help. As if his brother didn't have enough pain and suffering of his own, Dean also seemed to feel the hurts of everyone around him, too.

Sam shook his head, clearing his stray thoughts away and focused back on the road, and the task, ahead. Bobby said he had found a couple things, but they had decided to wait until they arrived and were settled in to discuss so that Dean could be part of the conversation too.

Dean sat quietly, looking down at Ren wondering how he could have forgotten. Guilt gnawed at him as he thought back to how agitated he'd been since she had wandered out into the woods. He squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath, trying to find a calm center in the sea of emotions whirling inside him. He knew during the course of their travels she had used her ability to "project" calm onto them when things had gotten particularly stressful. He had no idea how it worked, or if it was even possible for him to do the same for her, but he determined he would give it his best shot.

He tried to think of peace. Safety. Security and love, searching his thoughts for what all those things meant to him. Sam, Baby, Bobby, those rare times when there was no job pressing them into action, when they could just be together and be themselves. He thought back to when Ren had saved his life, the trust he had found for her though he barely knew her at the time. His thoughts started to drift to the days after, when he and Sam both feared she would die and he slammed the door on those memories quickly. He realized for the first time that the nights he fell asleep with her pressed along his side on the narrow motel beds he seemed to sleep better than the nights she slept alongside Sam. He wondered if that was something she was doing or if it was simply her proximity, whether Sam had the same experience. He decided he really did not want to examine it that closely right then.

Dean spent the rest of the ride in silence, trying to stay calm and still. Whether it was a result of that or something else, he was just thankful Ren seemed to be resting peacefully finally.

**v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v**

"Boy, you look like hammered dogshit," Bobby said, catching sight of Dean unfolding himself from the back seat with Ren cradled carefully in his arms.

"I love you too, Bobby," Dean retorted sarcastically.

"How's her fever?"

"I haven't had a chance to take her temperature, she hasn't woke up enough, but she feels a little cooler than she did I think. I've been putting the cool cloths to her."

"Alright, let's get her inside and settled. You can sit with her and keep an eye on her while Sam helps me get some things together, then we can figure out our next move." Bobby led the way inside and up the stairs as he spoke.

"I can help too, once she's in bed."

"Might be a good idea for someone to be near enough to notice if something changes, don't ya think?" the older man asked as he opened the door to one of the rooms. Dean was impressed by the makeshift infirmary Bobby had tossed together.

A hospital bed sat in the center of the room complete with a rolling hospital table and an overstuffed armchair close by the side.

"Wow, who'd you have to blow for all this, Bobby?" Dean smirked.

"Shaddup," Bobby drawled and cuffed Dean upside the head.

Depositing Ren carefully on the bed, Dean straightened out the blanket she had been bundled in and pulled the covers that were on the bed up over. Turning, he saw Sam in the hall and Bobby halfway out the door.

"Sit, ya idjit, and keep an eye on her while we get some things together."

Dean hesitated, torn. Bobby was right - if her fever spiked again or new symptoms developed from the poison, someone should be there to notice as quickly as possible. But he also wanted to be doing something to actually _fix_ the situation as quickly as they could.

"Dean," Sam finally spoke, "we'll come get you when everything is ready."

Dean debated for a second and finally nodded, moving to make himself comfortable in the chair beside the bed.

As the door closed behind them, Sam whispered, "How much do we have to do before we can get started?"

Bobby tossed him a look, whispering back, "Everything's been ready for hours. I'm hoping if we give your horse's ass of a brother a few minutes of quiet the stubborn bastard will nod off. He looks like hell."

Sam smiled ruefully, "Yeah, he really kinda does."

Bobby stared at him hard for a second before turning and heading for the stairs, "You don't look much better there, sunshine."

Sam chuckled, "Yeah, well it's been a hell of a few days. Should I get my own beer so I'm sure you don't slip me a mickey?"

Bobby snorted, "No mickey for you Sasquatch. I don't think I have a big enough dose for you anywhere."

Laughing quietly they headed for the office.

Ten minutes later Sam crept silently upstairs and eased the door open a crack. Dean had his head down on the side of the bed by Ren's hip, sound asleep. One arm was snaked up over her side, his hand resting on her stomach. If she got restless or distressed, that contact would alert him. Sam was well acquainted with his brother's "monitoring" technique.

Closing the door carefully, Sam sent up a silent thanks to whatever power might be listening, relieved that his brother was finally getting some much-needed rest.

He figured he owed the old Hunter a bottle of whiskey for his canniness - finding a way to make Dean take care of himself without butting heads was no small feat.

Sam smiled - maybe _two_ bottles of whiskey.


	5. Chapter 5

**v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v**

**Chapter 5:**

**A/N: For the first time ever, I have a beta. She is a patient goddess and she has my undying gratitude for all of her encouragement and tireless efforts to clean up my fragmented thought processes and erratic punctuation. You wouldn't know, looking at my stories, that I am actually quite adept at catching out grammar and punctuation slip-ups with others. I tend to write like I talk, and bless her heart for sorting through that both in our conversations and here. ::love:: Any remaining missteps are mine and mine alone.  
**

**v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v**

About forty minutes into the research, Sam had a thought that jerked him upright from where he had sat hunched over an old book.

"Sam?" Bobby inquired at the sudden movement.

Sam started pawing through his pile of notes. "Dean and I had found something somewhere that said the lamia only envenomate women who have lost a child."

Bobby's heart ached for Ren at the thought, "She lost a kid on top of everything else?"

"Yes. No." Sam shook his head to clear it, knowing he was talking in riddles. "I mean, we don't know whether she lost one of her own, but what if that's not what it means?"

Bobby's face scrunched in confusion, "I don't follow."

"I mean, what if it's not necessarily her _own_ child, but maybe one she's attached to or feels _responsible_ for? This last hunt, there was a kid," Sam felt a stab of guilt and sadness at the memory. "We were too late, and she..." he swallowed hard. "If Dean is right, and Ren also helped save a child from her clan, then what if something happened to that kid? _Shit!_"

"What now?" Bobby's head was reeling, trying to keep up.

"We were hoping if we could find this other woman, she would want to repay Ren for helping them, but if something happened to the kid..." he let the thought hang unfinished.

Bobby's face clouded over for a moment before settling into a determined scowl. "We will just keep that thought to ourselves until we can put a yes or no to it, yeah?"

Sam thought of how hard Dean was struggling for calm already and grimaced. "Yeah, definitely."

**v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v**

Dean jerked awake, instantly in Hunter mode. Something wasn't right. Lifting his head and opening his eyes, he looked at the bed he had been hunched over in sleep.

The empty bed.

Standing fast enough to send the heavy chair sliding halfway across the floor, he darted for the stairs. Thumping down them at full speed, he never slowed for the corner into the office. Grabbing onto the door frame he managed to stop, narrowly avoiding slamming into Bobby, who had been headed to find out what the commotion was.

"Where is she?" Dean blurted out.

"Take it easy, boy. Don't you think we would've - "

"Bobby! Just - " the old Hunter watched in stunned silence as the volatile Winchester visibly reined in his emotions. "Where is Ren?" he gritted out finally.

"I heard signs of life and went up to check. She was already in the bathroom with the door closed, said she wanted a shower. She's up - "

"_Alone?_" Dean snapped, incredulous.

"Yes, alone! I think she's old enough to wash behind her ears herself, don't you? Or do you suppose I should have offered to wash her back for her?"

"_No!_" Dean reeled back, stunned by the vehemence of his own outburst. Judging by the look on Bobby's face, he was just as shocked. It occurred to Dean, as it undoubtedly had to Bobby, that he only ever acted this out of control when Sam was the one hurt. Not interested in having _that_ conversation, he did the only thing he could do. Turning, Dean bolted back up the stairs, leaving Bobby looking utterly perplexed.

"Idjit," he muttered, shaking his head and turning back to the research strewn across his desk.

Sam appeared from the kitchen. "What was that all about?"

Bobby looked up, still confused, "Your damn fool brother. You'd think you two had found a long lost baby sister or something," he grumbled.

Sam snorted, smirking, "Yeah, 'or something'..."

Dean slid to a stop outside the bathroom door. He had to stamp down hard on the impulse to fling the door open and yell. Not only would it be counter-productive as far as keeping her calm in her weakened state, it could also simply get either or both of them hurt if he startled her.

Taking a deep breath, he rapped on the door. "Ren?"

Hearing no response, he pushed the door open slightly. Steam billowed out and blinded him. "Ren? Are you okay?"

The soft "Dean?" was barely loud enough to be heard over the shower, and came from down near the edge of the tub.

Suddenly fearing she'd fallen and been hurt, Dean made his decision, "I'm coming in." Slipping into the steam-filled room, he closed the door behind him. He pulled aside the shower curtain, finding her huddled on the bottom of the tub. She was shivering despite the fact that her skin was apple red from the heat of the water.

" 'm so c-c-cold," she murmured.

"You're not cold," Dean said softly, reaching to turn the taps off. "You have a fever. Do you remember what happened?" He turned to reach for a towel, stopping when she grabbed his arm.

"The girl! We have to save the girl!" Ren's eyes were wide with fear, she struggled to get to her feet.

Dean's heart broke at the thought of having to remind her of the awful events of that night. He snagged an oversized bath towel and wrapped it around her, lifting her out of the tub all in the same motion. He spoke to her softly as he carried her back toward the makeshift bedroom, "It's over, the job is finished. We - " he swallowed hard and buried his nose in her wet hair for just a moment. He couldn't do it. Either she would remember or she wouldn't, but he could not bring himself to remind her. Not now. "We killed the lamia, but it scratched you somehow. You've been poisoned and we need to figure out how to make you better."

He sat her on the edge of the bed. Wrapping a blanket around her, he stripped the towel out from underneath it to dry her hair as well as he could. Ren gripped the edge of the mattress, elbows locked against the dizzy sway of her body. She felt like she had been left in a snowbank for too long. She thought it was almost amusing that she actually knew what that felt like.

She tried to put together the fragmented pieces of her thoughts as Dean gently toweled her hair. It was like trying to catch tendrils of smoke in her hands.

She thought of Felicity and her child and tried to figure out why the young mother was in the front of her mind after not thinking of her for so long. She did not realize she had muttered the name aloud.

"Felicity?" Dean asked quietly. "Is that the woman from your clan? What's with the hippie-dippie names?" He looked into her eyes, fever-glazed and so confused. "You were talking in your sleep."

"But I don't..." Ren was so confused. Why couldn't she think? Oh yeah, poison. Fever. She had never talked in her sleep before though. Was this a dream too? Would she really dream she was sick when she was sick? Whatever the case, she was glad she was not dreaming one of the Winchesters were sick or injured. She'd had quite enough of that in the time she had known them, thank you very much.

At some point in her mental meandering, Dean had sat beside her on the bed and she had curled herself under the arm he had wrapped around her shoulders. The world finally stopped spinning for a moment and her eyes slid closed.

Dean could see she barely knew where she was right then. He wanted nothing more than to tuck her underneath the covers and go kill everything standing between them and a cure, but he didn't even know which way to start to look. He had to keep her talking just a little longer, though he loathed the thought.

"Ren? I know this is a lot to deal with all at once, but I need you to stick with me just a little longer. Then you can rest, okay? I need your help."

At his last words her eyes cracked open, darting up to his and he felt a pang of guilt.

He knew that look.

"It's alright. Sam and I are fine, I promise. Do you know if any of your people have ever been tagged by a lamia?" He watched her brow furrow, knew she was trying to sift through the fever fog to the memories of everything she had been taught by the shaman who had become her father.

A flicker of rage jolted through him, remembering what that "father figure" had done to someone he called "daughter". Without thinking, he reached his hand out and gently traced the scars she still bore on her face from that day. Her eyelids fluttered and closed as she relaxed under his touch.

Dean was pretty sure some of her blood was still dried in the cushions of the Impala's back seat from their emergency triage that night they first met. He and Sam had done their best to stitch her pieces back together with just the dome light to see by. He wondered, not for the first time, if he could have done a better job with better lighting. If he could have seen his stitches better maybe he could have lessened the scarring to her face. Ren had nearly been eviscerated trying to protect him, covering his unconscious body with her own, and he couldn't even fix it so that she was not reminded every time she looked in the mirror that her family had tried to kill her. It had taken Dean and Sam hours to clean up all the blood, working in shifts so someone was with her at all times in the aftermath.

Dean wondered if he could convince Ren to let them hunt the bastard down. He enjoyed that thought for a moment before bringing himself crashing back to reality. Despite everything that had happened, he was still her adopted father and Dean knew exactly how far she would go to protect family. Even the adopted ones.

Giving himself a hard mental kick for procrastinating, Dean moved to settle her back into bed. As he shifted her he tried talking to rouse her again, cursing himself for letting her drift off in the first place. He decided it might be best to go with the original plan rather than make her wrack her brain, especially since this Felicity seemed so close to the surface of her thoughts already.

"Ren? Do you know where Felicity is?" There was no response and he swore under his breath. He touched her jaw, turning her face toward him, He spoke quietly, but he could not keep the urgency out of his voice, "Ren, I need you to come back to me." Her eyelids flickered open and she struggled to focus on his face. "Do you know where Felicity is?"

"Sen' her t'see Jer'miah,"

"Okay, Jeremiah, good, that's a good start. Can you tell me how to find him?"

" 's'n a cab'n by th'field." Her eyes slipped closed again.

"Cabin by what field?" He was irritated with Bobby for letting her try to shower, her little adventure had clearly taken a lot out of her. Not that Bobby could have really done much to prevent it he supposed, if she was already in there by the time the older Hunter came upstairs. Dean knew he was mostly pissed at himself for falling asleep when he should have been keeping an eye on her.

"Where we met."

"Alright, we can work with that." Snugging the covers up over her, he sat in the chair beside the bed to think. They would have to go back to her clan's territory, and they would have to be very damn careful not to stir things up there. Dean could not really see another way, it had to be done.

But he didn't have to like it.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6:**

**v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v-v**

Sam braced himself for the confrontation ahead as he walked up the stairs. Dean was not going to like what he had to say, but he had given it a lot of thought. It was the best plan any way you looked at it.

Dean wouldn't like it one bit.

Sam caught up to his brother as he headed back to Ren's bedside. Sam decided to go with the "ripping off the band-aid" method. "Dean, Bobby and I are going to go find Felicity."

"Like hell you are!" Dean growled. Sam recognized the predictable _no-way-in-hell-are-you-going-anywhere-dangerous-without-me-little-brother_ look on Dean's face. "Bobby can stay with her, you and I will go."

"Dean, you said yourself, she doesn't know Bobby as well. If she wakes up and she's disoriented - "

Dean cut him off, his voice rising a notch, "Fine, then you stay with her, Bobby and I will go." He was getting very tired of having his words thrown back at him, true as they may be.

Sam's voice rose to match his obstinate brother's, "Yeah, sure, and how do you suppose that'll work out for you Dean? You'd be so distracted worrying about us back _here_ you'd probably end up getting yourself killed out _there_."

"In case you've forgotten, I hunted all by my wee little self there for quite awhile and managed to survive just fine."

"Did you? Really? "I'm hurt" doesn't even exist in your vocabulary, and I've _seen_ the scars you earned while I was at school. You survived because you're a stubborn bastard and don't know how to quit, and because you knew **_I_** was safely tucked away somewhere. There's too many variables in play here - "

The door crashed open and Bobby stalked out into the hallway from the room Ren was in, a thundercloud of anger ready to let loose on them. "If you two jackasses don't cut the crap I'm gonna knock your heads together until your teeth rattle free of your empty skulls, do I make myself clear?"

Suddenly the Winchesters, Hunters Of Evil, were 5 years old again. Both deflating when faced with the ire of their surrogate father. "Sorry," they muttered in unison. They looked over Bobby's broad shoulders into the room and saw Ren's wide, worried eyes blinking out at them. Dean scrubbed his hand roughly over his face. Sam sighed and hung his head.

"Alright, but you message me every couple hours so I know everything's okay," Dean spoke, low and even.

"Dean - " Sam started to protest.

"Just _do_ it." Dean's voice was tight as he strained for calm. A quick glance over Bobby's shoulder assured him that Ren was slipping back into a fitful sleep.

Sam nodded, admitting to himself that it was a small price to pay.

"And remember that they're gonna know her as Serendipity. And if her pack finds out that you're nosing around - "

"_Dean!_" Sam snapped, struggling to keep his voice down. Bobby glowered at them again from where he still stood in the doorway.

"Fine," Dean growled through clenched teeth as he turned and brushed past Bobby to stalk toward the chair. Flopping into it he stared at the wall across from him, jaw muscles standing out sharply as he ground his teeth together.

Guilt wound its way through Sam and he tried to think of something to say to his brother. He knew that between himself and Ren, Dean was just about filled to the brim with worry. He knew how hard it was for Dean to let him go running off without big brother to watch over him.

Sam also knew his brother's feelings were hurt and no matter what he said, Dean would either brush him off or launch his own verbal barbs. Sam decided it would be best to give Dean time to calm down and talk to him again then.

Talk and maybe some pie.

Not that pie solved all of life's woes, but Sam knew it would go a long way toward showing Dean he was sorry.

Leaving Sam to his internal conflict, Bobby moved to stand beside Dean with a bemused grunt. Dean looked up at him, asking, "What?" a bit more sharply than he had intended. If Bobby noticed, he gave no sign.

"She was so fidgety while I was sitting here I was afraid we'd have to tie her to the bed so she didn't fall out."

Dean looked at Ren bundled in the bed. She wasn't exactly resting peacefully, but she was dozing at least.

He knew Sam was right but, dammit, why did he always have to make everything into a pissing match? Dean sighed, dragging a hand over his face again. He was exhausted, he knew that was not helping his disposition any and it looked like there would not be much sleep for him for awhile yet. About the only good thing at that moment was that she _did_ seem to rest better with him nearby.

The seed planted, Bobby turned and headed out of the room again. Dean had a bitter pill to swallow, letting Sam go off without him, and there was nothing Bobby could do to help with that. There was something else he could do though.

A couple of things, actually. Mediating between the two Winchesters was as familiar to Bobby as his trucker's cap. Making sure they didn't drive themselves into the ground or kill each other were just as high on his priority list. It was time to take care of his boys the only way he knew how.

Bobby closed the door and nodded for Sam to follow him, leading the way down to his office. As he shut the office door Bobby finally spoke. "All these years and you still don't know how to wrangle your brother."

"Bobby - "

"Cork it, boy," he rumbled, the familiar "gruff-love" shining through his tone, "we still got a long road ahead of us here. Dean's not your dad. He doesn't expect unquestioning obedience from you, you don't need to constantly headbutt him into submission. He's been watching over you since the day you were born, though. You can't expect him to just quit simply because you went and got yourself growed up."

"He treats me like a child." It sounded petulant, even to Sam, but the age-old gripe crossed his lips like a well-practiced mantra.

"No. He treats you like someone he gives a _damn_ about. Big difference, Sam." With that, Bobby turned and headed toward the kitchen. Lunch time had come and gone with no break for any of them. He may not be a four star chef, but Bobby Singer was still pretty handy in the kitchen. He was relatively confident he could whip them up something palatable, including something for the sick 'shifter upstairs. He wanted to make certain Dean got at least one decent meal before they headed out.

Dean would definitely remember to feed Ren whatever she could manage to keep down, but Bobby was fairly certain eating would be the furthest thing from Dean's mind while they were gone.


End file.
